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In which i discuss my trouble with travels

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I have travel issues. It’s not that I don’t enjoy travelling, it’s the planning aspect that gets constantly fucked up. If it just happened once it would be a fluke but after at least four times, it seems that we have seen the enemy and it is us. The first time this type of problem reared its ugly head was for my 20th reunion for Johns Hopkins University. It was in April of 2001. I had paid the money, made the reservations and was preparing to drive up to Baltimore with my husband Kevin to attend. Just to touch base with my friend Monika, I called her up on the Thursday before to confirm our plans.

She answered the phone and said, “Lynn, where the hell were you?” “What”, I replied, “I’m on my way up there tomorrow.” That was when I was informed that I was a jerk; the reunion had been the previous weekend. “Are you serious?” I asked. SHE WAS. She said people kept asking where I was and there were nametags ready and everything. She kept assuring everyone that I would be there. I completely missed my 20th reunion! Boy was I pissed … although not as pissed as Kevin was. You see he had taken off work to drive up for the weekend and you get the picture. The amazing thing was that I was invited to a big wedding out of town one weekend and my reunion the next and since I couldn’t leave the kids two weekends in a row, I chose the reunion. The end result was that I missed both. Ha fucking ha.

Well, since I already had a sitter for the kids, Kevin and I went down to the beach for the weekend but I was still bummed.

I wish I could say that was the only time this thing happened but I digress…

Andie and I were headed to Florida for the Disney Field Hockey Tournament. I get on the computer the night before to print out our boarding passes and lo and behold, I can’t find them. I’m frantically searching all over the place and it turns out I made airline reservations for March when in fact, we were leaving the next day in FEBRUARY to go to the tournament. We were playing with a team from Ohio so it was pretty important we be there on the correct month. Talk about an “OH SHIT” moment. Well, they don’t sell full-price tickets for no reason, do they? I’m freaking and telling Andie, do not tell your father about this. We made the flight, and of course he found out because my kids love ratting me out to my husband.

And on we go …

I’m in Maine on the way back with the kids after a lovely week of lounging around with my relatives. We drive the hour and a half to the airport only to find out the flight didn’t leave at 12:00 as I had thought, but at 11:00. Since it was 10:45, we weren’t allowed to board the plane. We spent six hours in the Portland International Jetport. No flights. Nothing. As a matter of fact, that airport sucks so badly that Andie wrote a 5 page diatribe on Why the Portland International Airport Should Not Exist. So of course we have to fly standby. Finally they had three standby seats on one plane and one on the next flight. So what could I do? I had to send my three kids, age 12, 11 and 8 on to Philadelphia alone while I waited in Portland for the next flight. We finally got home to Greensboro but what a clusterfuck. I’d like to blame the airlines but really, it’s all me.

Yet another time…

How about the time Andie and I were flying to California for yet another field hockey tournament and we show at the airport and apparently I had received an email about a flight change. Yeah, that’s right, the flight left in 10 minutes. As we sprinted through the airport down to our gate all I could think of is, “Fucking spinning! I work out every damn day and I’m dying here sprinting tto the gate!” Once again, we made it by the skin of our teeth.

Shall I go on? Because I could for days…

We’re leaving on spring break heading down to the Bahamas. It’s early in the morning and we’re heading for Starbucks for a cup of java on the way to the airport. Kevin says, “Lynn, are you sure about the flight times?” I say, “of course, have I ever been wrong?” That caused a huge moment of silence in the car and then I heard, “Check the damn tickets, right now”. Well, of course I was wrong. You get the picture: we turn the car around, drive about 100 miles per hour to get to the airport and barely make the flight.

So there you have it. This is but a small sampling of my trouble with travels. This morning when I was discussing this chapter with Kevin, he said “I love how you make it sound like the traveling is the problem”.

What the hell does that mean? Why does my family entrust this responsibility to me? It’s not part of my job description. Actually, anything that requires attention to detail is supposed to be kept far, far away from me. They should know this by now, so really, it’s their fault.

4 Comments

Tessa

August 23, 2010

This is funny. I like this one better than your rant on Harris Teeter. Most people don't get pissed off about saving money. I thought it might be going downhill – but you saved it with this one. I will continue to follow, …. close one

Robin

August 23, 2010

This is very funny stuff. My kids keep asking me what I'm laughing about. Good thing I don't have to depend on you for travel plans!

Theresa

August 12, 2011

Like I said before, Sitcom shit for real!! I just crack up every time!